


The Long Way Home

by MyChemicalRachel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Also fluff, But they're both legal, Consent is Sexy, Derek is Scott's dad, Español translation available, M/M, Secret Relationship, Single Parent Derek, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6280135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalRachel/pseuds/MyChemicalRachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles didn’t plan to sleep with his best friend’s dad. It just kind of happened. And then it happened again. And again. And again…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Long Way Home

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [The Long Way Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472720) by [VenezuelanWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenezuelanWriter/pseuds/VenezuelanWriter)



Nobody actually remembers how Scott and Stiles became friends, or when. One day, Stiles just brought home a friend from school and it’s like they were instantly attached at the hip. Like they’d always been that way. So naturally Scott’s dad Derek and Sheriff Stilinski (“ _Call me John,_ ”) grew to know each other as well.

John remembers meeting Derek for the first time. He was young, single, and still kind of new to parenting. Apparently he’d knocked up some girl in high school and didn’t even know until he was turning eighteen and had a toddler thrown into his lap by a woman who claimed she didn’t want the child anymore. After a paternity test and a lot of panicking, Derek had taken Scott in (because what other option did he have?) and grew attached. Before he knew it, his carefree young adulthood filled with partying and drinking and one-night-stands was replaced with potty training and Barney movies and mac-and-cheese with hotdogs cut up in it. He was a dad. And of course John remembers how hard it was to take care of Stiles alone after Claudia had passed away, so he helped in any way possible.

To Stiles, Scott and Derek were practically family. Scott was almost like a brother and Derek was… Well, he was more like a friend than a parent-of-a-friend. He didn’t insist on being called Mr. Hale (he actually hated it) and he didn’t talk to Stiles like he was some kid. He spoke to him like he was a real person whose opinion was valid and considered. He played video games with Scott and Stiles and he let Stiles try a sip of beer when he turned eighteen (with the promise that Stiles would never _ever_ tell the Sheriff.) Derek didn’t complain when Stiles and Scott decided to take a gap year before going to college, he listened to them and supported their decision because they were adults now and they had a right to choose. It was like Derek and Scott were a permanent fixture in his life. He couldn’t imagine being without them.

So when Stiles wakes up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, the ominous feeling of a panic attack creeping up on him, his first reaction is to find Scott. His dad is on a night shift schedule this week and the house is quiet. Too quiet. Stiles fumbles for his phone and hits speed dial two, but it goes straight to voicemail. Scott’s probably sleeping.

Now normal people would try to relax, go get a drink or wander around the empty house until the ache in his chest subsides, but Stiles instead tosses on a pair of jeans and leaves. He thinks about driving to Scott’s house, but his hands are still shaking. So he walks. It’s only a few blocks anyway.

By the time Stiles is standing in front of the familiar Hale house, his chest still hurts and his fingers are numb from the cold. He flips through his keys in the dark, trying to find the one that fits this lock (it’s not weird that he has a key to Scott’s house. Scott has a key to Stiles’ house, too.) but before he gets the right one, the front door is swinging open, light illuminating Derek as he frowns at Stiles. “I thought I heard someone out here. Stiles, it’s like two in the morning. Are you okay?”

Stiles fidgets with his keys some more, feeling a little self conscious. His lips tremble, but words escape him.

Derek’s frown deepens and suddenly he’s ushering Stiles into the warm house. There’s a lamp on in the living room, a book abandoned on the sofa next to Derek’s glasses. “You’re freezing,” Derek comments. He sits Stiles down on the couch, shoving his stuff out of the way before claiming the cushion next to him. “And shaking. Did something happen?”

Stiles forces himself to take a deep breath. He closes his eyes. Shakes his head. “No,” He says and then commends himself on forming words. There’s still the ache in his chest and his fingers tingle. “Yes. I just… I had a bad dream. I didn’t want to be alone. I tried calling Scott. Is he asleep?”

Derek retrieves a throw blanket tossed over the back of the couch, handing it to Stiles. “He’s in New York for the week, remember?”

And then Stiles does, and he sighs heavily. “The college visit. Shit, I forgot about that.” Scott isn’t here. Stiles puts his head in his hands and groans. There’s a hand on his shoulder then and he’s forced to look up at Derek again. Derek, who’s watching him with sincere concern in his green eyes. Or they look kind of brown in the dimmed light. Stiles realizes with a sudden jolt just how gorgeous Derek is. He’s always had a distant admiration of the older man’s looks, sort of objectively recognizing that he’s attractive, but right at this moment Derek is absolutely breathtaking.

“Was it your mom?” Derek wonders. His voice is soft. Of course he knows about the recurring nightmares that have haunted Stiles since his mother died. He knows how to deal with the panic attacks that sometimes overwhelm Stiles at the slightest trigger.

Stiles finds himself nodding. “I can leave if you want.” He silently wants Derek to say no. He doesn’t want to be left alone after the nightmare. He usually doesn’t sleep after he’s had one, so maybe he can take the long way home, perhaps go on a walk through the preserve and wallow in his misery until the sun comes up.

Derek rests a hand on Stiles’ arm. A sad smile forms on his lips. “No. You don’t want to be alone and I’m here. If you want to stay, I mean.”

Stiles doesn’t really know what compels him to do it-- it’s honestly pretty stupid if he stops to think about it-- but without conscious decision, Stiles realizes he’s leaning forward. There’s a spark-- more than a spark. It’s fucking dynamite. Stars exploding. Worlds forming. The faint taste of Derek’s mouth on his. Closed lips at first, but Stiles presses deeper into the kiss before he has a chance to think better of it. Derek moves to pull back, opening his mouth probably to say something important, but Stiles simply leans farther into it and slips his tongue just past Derek’s lips. The words he was trying to form turn into a soft moan instead.

“No talking,” Stiles mumbles. He reaches his hand around the nape of Derek’s neck, holding him there with enough force to make his intent known, but not enough that Derek can’t move if he so wishes. “You’re going to tell me we can’t do this.” Stiles is almost breathless, his words just exhales of air against Derek’s cheeks, his lips, his tongue. “Or that we shouldn’t. But I want to. I really fucking want to.” Stiles pulls back abruptly, his eyes latching onto Derek’s, holding the intense gaze. “I want you, Derek.”

Derek doesn’t say anything. There’s a lust clouding his eyes that makes Stiles desperate for the older man’s touch. But Stiles can’t do this, not if Derek wants to say no. Maybe he’s just trying to find a way to reject Stiles nicely. But a long second passes before Derek surges forward, reconnecting the kiss.

Somehow they make it from the couch to the hallway, then most of the way up the stairs, and ultimately the bedroom. Stiles has been in here before, grabbing a pen from Derek’s desk drawer or a spare shirt that one time he and Scott made a mess with spaghetti, but it feels different this time. It _is_ different. Derek’s hands are on him, pressing back and pulling closer and just clinging tightly like he’s afraid Stiles might disappear any second. And Stiles is moaning his name, tugging fingers through his hair, demanding fewer articles of clothing. When his back hits the mattress and Derek hovers over him, Stiles’ mind goes blank. There’s nothing but pure desire between them. Stiles forgets that this is his best friend’s dad. He forgets that the man in front of him is sixteen years older. More than anything, he forgets the nightmare that brought him here in the first place. Nothing but warm mouths and pressing fingertips, needy gasps and heated moans.

Derek knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t hesitate, except to ask Stiles’ permission before slicking up a few fingers and inserting them into Stiles one by one. He moves swiftly, confidently, gracefully. And Stiles is no awkward virgin, but he’s nowhere near as experienced as Derek seems to be. He feels desperate for Derek’s touch, his warmth, his presence, and maybe he’ll be embarrassed in the morning by all the pleading whines that are escaping his throat, but for right now Stiles is happy to enjoy the pleasure rushing over him. And with all the noise Derek is making, Stiles is pretty sure he’s enjoying himself as well.

And when Stiles comes with Derek still buried deep in him, it’s all white noise and static. It’s the best orgasm of his life, that’s for sure. He’s aware of Derek pulling out, moaning his name, collapsing into a heap next to him. Stiles presses a kiss to Derek’s lips and tosses an arm over his waist, nuzzling into Derek’s chest. They’re both a mess, but neither of them seem to care much as Stiles drifts into a pleasant sleep.

 

The next morning, Stiles wakes up feeling well rested. He blinks a few times before his eyes get used to the steady stream of sunlight coming from behind the closed curtains and he makes out the shape of a body next to him. Derek’s still asleep, his lips parted slightly. Stiles thinks there’s some dried come in his stubble. Either that or drool.

The rational part of his mind is insisting that he freak out. Lying here in the still of the morning light, the events of last night come rushing back to Stiles. He had sex with his best friend’s dad. Any normal person would be freaking the fuck out, panicking, hurrying to gather their clothes and disappear before their partner woke up. But Stiles just scoots closer, watching Derek’s sleeping form. He knows he should feel bad, but Stiles feels nothing but content. Happy, even. Not a sliver of remorse anywhere.

When Derek stirs a few minutes later, slowly becoming coherent enough to recognize that there’s someone lying next to him, he jumps out of bed and proceeds to freak out enough for the both of them. He actually makes Stiles close his eyes while he searches for a pair of pants to put on and then he begins pacing the length of the floor. Stiles waits, back propped up against the headboard, following Derek’s movements with his eyes. Derek mutters to himself (mostly curse words and self directed insults) while he pulls both hands anxiously through his hair.

“Holy shit,” Derek groans. He stops walking, closes his eyes, breathes deeply. “I can’t believe we did that.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Calm down, dude. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Derek turns to gape at him. “Not that big of a deal? We had sex!” He breathes deeply again, repeating, “We had sex. Stiles, I’m so sorry.”

Stiles frowns. “Sorry for what exactly? It wasn’t your fault, you know. It was fully consensual.”

“You’re Scott’s best friend,” Derek says slowly. “You’re the same age as my _son_.  Oh fuck, your dad is going to shoot me. Or arrest me.”

“He can’t arrest you,” Stiles says simply. “I’m nineteen.” He says nothing of the shooting because he’s only mostly sure his dad wouldn’t shoot Derek.

“And I’m thirty-five!” Derek exclaims. “I took advantage of you! Fuck, you’ve had sleepovers in my house since you were ten! You’re my kid’s best friend! And now… Now I…”

Stiles is sick of listening to Derek berate himself. So he stands up (no modesty whatsoever) and moves to stand in front of Derek. Then, without warning, he pushes Derek up against the wall and kisses him. Hard. He kisses Derek until he’s dizzy and needs to come up for air. He watches Derek intently. “You didn’t take advantage of me, dumbass,” Stiles states. “I wanted it last night and I still want it now.” He notices the way Derek’s eyes flash back to Stiles’ mouth, causing the corners quirk up into a smile. “We didn’t do anything I didn’t want to. In fact, I think there are a few more things I want to do with you. If you want it.”

Derek’s mouth opens and closes a few times. He blinks. Tries to breathe evenly. Stiles prepares himself to be kicked out of the house. He expects Derek to tell him no, that last night was a mistake that can never happen again. But instead, Derek reaches up to brush a few fingers across Stiles’ jaw, his voice low and rough when he says, “I think I want it.”

Stiles leans closer until his lips hover just above Derek’s, so close he can almost taste him, but not quite touching. “Good. Because I really want you to fuck me against this wall now.”

Stiles rethinks his declaration of last night’s orgasm being the best of his life because he realizes that having Derek pounding into him while his back, slick with sweat, slides against the wall might be a kink he wants to explore in depth in the future. Derek bites down on his neck and digs his fingernails into Stiles’ thighs, and Stiles can only manage keening noises and wordless moans as he pulls at Derek’s hair.

 

It’s not awkward when they part ways after Stiles showers and borrows a clean shirt. He thought it might be sort of uncomfortable, but it feels strangely normal. Derek gives him a ride back to his house and they separate with a “see you later” and smile. It feels the same, all but the smile. That part is new. It’s small and secretive and meant just for Stiles, and it makes his heart race in a way he doesn’t think it should.

 

There’s a silent agreement not to tell Scott. Obviously. Telling Scott that his best friend and dad are fucking would cause a whole shit storm of chaos. So they keep it a secret, which is kind of easier than expected. Since Scott and Allison started dating, Stiles is used to postponed plans and being left to show himself out of the Hale house while Scott runs off. Except now, when Scott gets a text and tells Stiles he’s going to meet Allison, Stiles won’t follow behind and head for his own house like he usually would. Instead, he exchanges a glance with Derek and then, as soon as Scott is out of the driveway, they’re on each other. They’ve had sex on the kitchen table more than once and Stiles never gets sick of messy handjobs in the hallway because they’re too anxious to make it up the stairs.

Sometimes they settle for lazy kissing on the couch, just exploring with their tongues without ever really reaching an end. No climax. Just trailing lips and tongues across skin until they’re content before putting on a movie or reading in comfortable silence.

It continues this way for almost six months. Sometimes Stiles and Derek will go a week or two without seeing each other or getting time to themselves, and other times Derek will spend hours on end watching Stiles come undone beneath him, using nothing but his tongue (like when Scott went up north a few counties to visit another college and they spent the entire weekend in Derek’s bed.)

 

By early July, things are going as normal. Stiles crashed in Scott’s room last night after binging on video games and too much pizza. By the time they both woke up, Derek was making pancakes. The three of them sit at the table, eating and bickering about if the latest COD game is better than the original, when Scott’s phone goes off. He glances at it, types back a quick response, and then scarfs the rest of his breakfast. “Allison,” He explains, throwing his dirty plate in the sink. “She wants to know if I can help her sort through some stuff she’s packing for college. I’ll be back by dinner. Bye, Dad. Later Stiles.” And then he’s gone and Stiles and Derek are left alone.

Stiles points his fork in Derek’s direction. “I’m blowing you when I’m finished,” He states simply. “These pancakes are fucking delicious.”

Derek smirks, cocking an eyebrow. “Are you gonna put your mouth on my dick every time I make good food?”

“Are you offering to make me more food?” Stiles laughs. “Because the answer is totally yes. Food and sex with you are my two favorite things.” Stiles stops and turns to Derek, his face suddenly very serious. “Why have we not combined those things yet? I want you covered in syrup right now.” He grabs the bottle of maple syrup and holds it out, but then pulls it back. “No. Fuck, do you have whipped cream? I really wanna lick whipped cream off your nipples.”

Derek thinks about it. “I don’t have whipped cream,” He says sadly. “But I think we have Cheez Whiz. The kind in the can.”

Stiles snorts. “That is definitely not as sexy.”

“You know,” Derek says, reaching across the table to retrieve the syrup. “I think you were onto something with this. Personally, I want eat this off your body. If you’re up for that.”

Stiles wastes absolutely no time in tossing his plate into the sink (maybe too hard, he thinks he heard it crack. Derek doesn’t seem to care.) and then he’s being pushed back onto the table. Derek peels off Stiles’ shirt, dropping it onto the floor, and then moves to straddle his thighs. Making a thin line of syrup from his navel to his throat, Derek leans down and follows the strip with his tongue. Stiles has no shame in moaning like a whore, twisting his hands in Derek’s hair. When he reaches the end of the syrup trail, Derek presses their mouths together in a sweet (literally) and filthy kiss. His stubble is sticky and Stiles chest (thankfully hairless. He will never insult puberty again for his lack of body hair) is sticking to Derek’s shirt. The shirt needs to go, Stiles decides, and tugs on the hem of it. When it’s gone, Stiles allows his hands to roam over Derek’s stomach, his chest, his back, to rest on his ass.

With all the moaning going on, it’s not really a surprise they didn’t hear the front door open. They don’t hear Scott’s footsteps enter the room. All they hear is the deafening sound of Scott’s voice, higher pitched than Stiles thought even possible. “What the hell!?”

Derek jerks back and Stiles sits up and the combination of those movements ends with Derek sprawled on the tile floor, mouth agape, while Stiles meets Scott’s wide eyes. And Stiles is speechless. He can’t think of a single thing to say. _I’m sorry? Can you give us a few minutes? It’s not what it looks like?_

“I can’t fucking believe you!” Scott yells and whoa, he is furious. He’s glaring at Derek, his hands clenched into fists. “You fucking pedophile! How could you do this!? Stiles,” Scott turns to him with hurt puppy dog eyes. “It’s okay. I’m gonna call your dad, okay?”

Stiles jumps up, terrified all of a sudden. He flails uselessly and then races forward to grab the phone from Scott before this situation gets even more fucked up. “It’s not what it looks like,” He says because apparently it looks like Stiles is being molested. And really, he’s not.

Scott frowns at him, glares at Derek (who really needs to get up off the floor and help Stiles defuse this situation.) “What are you talking about? Stiles, if he hurt you--”

Stiles is shaking his head. “Scotty, your dad didn’t hurt me. He’s… We were…” Stiles rubs a hand over his face, trying to remember how to speak. And then he just blurts out, “We’ve been having sex. For awhile now.” He pauses. Then unnecessarily adds, “Together.”

Scott is silent. Derek finally gets to his feet, only to fall back into a dining chair. Stiles looks between them. Nobody speaks and after a few minutes the remnants of the syrup and saliva are starting to dry on his skin. “Okay,” He finally says. “Scott, text Allison. Tell her you’ll be over later to help. I need a shower. And then we need to talk. All of us.”

Stiles wants to hide from his problems in the shower forever, but he knows that he shouldn’t leave Derek and Scott alone together for too long. They were both shocked and if they start talking, they might say some hurtful things. No, Stiles wants to be there as a mediator of sorts. Maybe Scott will listen to Stiles, listen to his reason, and then freak out and start yelling.

The Hales have moved to the living room when Stiles comes down the stairs in a borrowed pair of sweatpants and shirt. They’re across the room from each other. Scott is glaring and Derek refuses to meet his eyes, but there’s a frown tugging his lips down.

Stiles sits on the floor between them. He doesn’t want to act like he’s choosing sides in this, so he figures the floor is neutral territory. He sighs when no one says anything and figures he’s going to have to be the one to get this conversation going.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” He says to Scott. “But I know it’s a really fucked up situation.”

Scott looks at Stiles with a blank expression. “You’re screwing my dad. I think “fucked up” is kind of an understatement.”

Stiles nods. “You’re mad. I get that.”

Scott snorts obnoxiously. “You’re screwing my dad,” He repeats. “Dude, I’m not mad. Or I am. I’m really mad. Because that’s my dad. And you’re my best friend. But why? When? How long has this been going on?”

Knowing where Scott’s mind is going, Stiles starts shaking his head fervently. “No. Dude, I know what you’re thinking and just no. That’s fucked up. You really think Derek has been sexing me up for _years_?”

With a grimace, Scott just shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“A few months.” The answer is from Derek. The first thing he’s said so far. He’s still not looking directly at Scott, or Stiles for that matter, but he’s talking. “That’s it. Just a few months.”

Scott’s hard gaze is back on Stiles. He throws his hands up. “So you were into this? You were willing?”

“Yes,” Stiles says honestly. “One hundred percent. Look, we’re both to blame for this.” Then he sighs and lowers his gaze. “I’m the one that initiated it. The very first time. I’m the one who asked for it. It’s not like he pressured me into anything.”

“But he should have said no!” Scott shouts. He jumps to his feet, towering over Stiles. For a second, Stiles thinks Scott might honestly hit him. And he’s not sure he doesn’t deserve it. But Scott doesn’t hit anyone, he just gestures wildly to Derek. “He should have fucking said no! Because you’re a kid! And he’s an adult!”

Stiles scrambles ungracefully to his feet to match Scott’s glare. “I’m not a kid, Scott! I am an adult! And maybe we went behind your back and maybe you’re pissed about that, but don’t fucking turn it around like your dad raped me or some shit because that’s not what happened! We both wanted it! So how about we talk about what’s really bothering you, huh? Is it the fact that we didn’t tell you? Would you rather I came to you after that first night and said “hey Scott, your dad just boned me, is that cool with you?” Would you have been happy that way?”

“You didn’t have to fucking lie to me!” Scott’s face is red. Nostrils flared. He looks livid.

Stiles nods, backing down a bit. His throat feels raw. “Yeah well I’m sorry. But these past few months…” He pauses, chuckling. “Scott, I’ve been happy. Did you even notice? Did you notice that my panic attacks have gotten better? Or that the nightmares about my mom have practically stopped? Did you notice any of that?”

And the look on Scott’s face is answer enough; No, he didn’t notice.

“Scott, I’m not mad at you,” Stiles says. “I know you’ve been wrapped up in Allison and that’s okay. I don’t complain when you cancel bro-night because she wants to go see a movie, or when you run off in the middle of video games because she snapped her fingers. So can you just please try to understand this? Try to understand why we didn’t tell you.” Scott offers a small nod. “This is between me and Derek,” Stiles says. “He’s your dad and I get that, but this doesn’t involve you. We didn’t want to involve you if we didn’t have to.”

“It’s weird,” Scott states. He’s still frowning, but he doesn’t look angry anymore. “You’re my best friend and he’s my dad. That’s fucking weird, Stiles. What about your dad? Does he know? Have you told anyone? Are you planning on telling anyone? Did you ever plan on telling me? Are you guys like a thing? Is it just sex, or is it more than that? Because if you marry my dad, I’m not calling you papa. That’s fucking weird.”

Stiles laughs softly. He wants to answer all of Scott’s questions, but eventually he just shrugs in response to it all. “I don’t know,” He admits. “I think that’s between me and Derek. Right? Obviously I care what you think, we both do, but ultimately…”

“It’s weird,” Scott says again. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay with it.”

Stiles looks down, nodding slowly. That doesn’t surprise him. And if Scott is against it, they have to stop. The shower sex and the quickies in the hall. All of it has to stop, because Scott is more important than all of that.

“But you’re happy, right?” Scott wonders. He’s not looking at Stiles anymore. Over his shoulder, Stiles sees where Scott is watching Derek. “I change my mind,” He sighs after a moment. “I don’t want to be involved. You’re right. This is between you and my dad. You guys can sort your shit out and I’m going to see Allison.” But before he leaves, he steps around Stiles to go to Derek. Derek stands, looks like he’s preparing for Scott to kick him in the balls. Scott just says, “I’m sorry for what I said. I know you would never do that to anyone, Dad. I never should have accused you of something like that.”

Derek says something in return and pulls Scott in for a hug.

 

When Scott is gone again, things get awkward. For the first time ever, Stiles is uncomfortable in Derek’s presence. It’s not because he’s afraid or scared. Derek would never hurt him. He’s nervous because it’s time for them to talk. And Stiles talks a lot, but he never really says much. This time needs to be different because he thinks he only has one chance at this.

Before Derek can speak, Stiles blurts out, “I want it to be real.”

Derek meets his eyes slowly, confusion creasing between his eyes. “Everything was real,” He says. “All of it.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. Takes a breath. “But I want more. Than just sex. I want _you_.” Derek doesn’t reply instantly and Stiles is pressing on, rambling like he does best. “I love the sex. It’s incredible. But I want you, too. I don’t want Scott to call me Papa because he’s right, that’s weird. I just want something more than handjobs on the couch. I want to really make love to you because I think we’ve reached that point, right? At least I have, and there’s a very real chance that I’ve read everything wrong and we’re not even on the same page. But I think I love you, Derek. And not in the way that I love Scott or my dad or those ice cream cookies you always buy when I’m coming over, but real Love with a capital L. Because I know you as more than just Scott’s dad; I know you like to read the last page of every book before you even start the first chapter, and I know you love when I call you pretty even though you hate to admit, and you’re self conscious of your bunny teeth but you let me run my tongue over them just because I want to. And you know me, too. I’ve noticed the way you put extra chocolate chips in your pancakes when you know I’m coming over because you know I like them that way. And you recorded an entire week's worth of Survivor to watch with me even though you don’t even like that show. And you know exactly what to say when I have a panic attack, or wake up crying about my mom. And I’ve never felt like this before, Derek. About anyone. And maybe I’m just some stupid kid who has convinced himself that you love me too, even though all I am is a convenient fuck but--”

Stiles’ words are cut off (thankfully. He was kind of running out of air) when Derek presses their mouths together. It’s hard at first. Stiff. Unmoving lips against lips. But then Stiles melts into the kiss and it tastes the same as every kiss they’ve shared before, but it feels so different. But all too soon, Derek is pulling back. “There’s nothing convenient about you,” He says. A smile plays around the corners of his lips. “You go out of your way to push my buttons and you talk too much and you take too long in the shower so the water is cold by the time I get a turn. You leave your clothes everywhere and you put my socks in the dishwasher because you thought they would be clean faster.” Stiles readies himself for the heartbreak he knows is inevitable. He prepares for it. Takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. And then he feels Derek’s forehead resting against his own. Their noses bump together. He can feel the smile on Derek’s lips when he kisses Stiles again, whispering, “And I think I love you, too.”


	2. It Just Doesn't Feel Right

****Stiles isn’t pouting. Because he is an almost-twenty-year-old man and he may be sulking, frowning, brooding, or all of the above, but he is _not_ pouting. He watches as Derek sips his coffee across the kitchen table from him. Stiles fidgets in the suddenly uncomfortable seat, narrows his eyes, and finally reaches over to take the mug away from Derek. He sets it down too hard on the table, some of the coffee sloshing over the brim. Neither of them clean it up.

“We professed our love to each other like a month ago,” Stiles states. “Last night, you let me stay the night with you and then thirty minutes ago, you brought me cereal in bed. And now you’re breaking up with me?”

Derek is shaking his head, reaching over to grab Stiles’ hand. Their fingers twist together, which is sort of a reassuring gesture, but Derek’s words are far from encouraging. His lips twitch up in some sort of smile. “Breaking up implies we agreed to be a couple. We never had that talk. Would you want to be a couple, Stiles?”

“Why does it sound like you’re flirting with me?” Stiles asks, dumbfounded. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, just so you can turn around and dump me? Are you high? Sick? Feverish?” Stiles puts the back of his hand against Derek’s forehead, but it’s not hot. He frowns. “You’re serious about us seeing other people?”

Derek nods solemnly. “Yes.”

Stiles pushes his chair back, abruptly standing up. He doesn’t want to hold Derek’s hand while those words are coming out of Derek’s mouth. It’s like whiplash; Derek wants him, Derek doesn’t want him. Stiles is confused, and hurt, and… did he mention confused?

Derek stands up as well, definitely more calm than Stiles. “You’re going away to college in two weeks,” He says, like that explains everything.

He’s pacing, running his hands through his hair, but at Derek’s words he stops. “This is because I’m moving to Berkeley?”

Derek shakes his head, thinks better, and then shrugs. “Kind of,” He admits, but it sounds more like a question. Then he sighs. “Yes, it’s because you’re moving to Berkeley. And because you’re not even twenty. And you’re going to college with Scott.”

“What does any of that have to do with us?” Stiles throws his arms up in the air, like he’s physically trying to grasp Derek’s train of thought. But he’s coming up empty handed.

For the first time, Stiles notices how sad Derek looks. It’s like a hopeful yet deflated, optimistic sad. Stiles moves to stand in front of Derek, twisting their hands together again. “Seriously dude, talk to me. You can’t just drop this bomb on me that you want to see other people and then not explain yourself.”

“I don’t want to see other people,” Derek says softly. He’s avoiding eye contact. “But I want you to.”

Stiles puts a finger under Derek’s chin, tilting his face up so they’re looking at each other. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you’re going to college,” Derek says. “And I want you to have a real college experience. You’re supposed to go to parties and experiment and have one night stands and meet new people.”

The frown on Stiles’ face deepens until he’s pretty sure it’s engraved in his features. “And what if I don’t want new people? I don’t want one night stands or experiments, Derek. I want you.”

Derek is shaking his head. “Berkeley is two hours from here. I don’t know if we’re really ready for a long distance thing. I honestly think this might be good for us--”

“You think breaking up is good for us?” Stiles asks, his voice dubious.

Another shrug from Derek. “Maybe. I think you should go to college without the pressure of me waiting here for you. I don’t want to hold you back.” Stiles takes a deep breath, preparing for a long-ass lecture about how Derek isn’t holding him back and Stiles wants this, but Derek is pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Just go,” Derek says when they part, and there’s an encouraging smile on his face. “Have fun. Be a normal college kid. I’m not going anywhere. If you decide in a few months, or a year, that you still want this, then I’ll be here.”

 

Stiles still isn’t convinced, but Derek is adamant about Stiles having a “real college experience” and so two weeks later, Stiles and Scott pack their belongings into the Jeep and head up to Berkeley. The drive is long and silent, aside from the radio that quits working halfway there. Since they were kids, Scott and Stiles were convinced they would go to college together and be the best roommates ever. But since Stiles was accepted first, his name was higher on the list than Scott’s. Which meant that, by the time Scott got everything sorted out in admissions, Stiles already had a roommate and dorm assigned.

Derek drove up separately a day later with the rest of Scott’s belongings. Stiles was sitting in Scott’s room when Derek showed up. Scott’s new roommate, Isaac, was there with his friend Erica. They were unpacking Isaac’s stuff on one side of the room when Derek appeared in the doorway with a box in his arms, looking as gorgeous as ever. Seriously, is that a leather jacket? After a short introduction, Scott went with Derek to get the rest of the boxes from the car, leaving Stiles alone with Isaac and Erica.

“Hot damn,” Erica stage whispers as soon as soon as they’re gone. “He is _fine_. Please tell me he is a single parent. His ass looked fucking edible in those jeans.”

Stiles tries not to feel jealous. Jealousy is completely unwarranted. Technically, Stiles and Derek were not a couple at the moment. And besides, Erica is allowed to look all she wants. It’s not a crime to notice how attractive Derek is.

“Is Scott’s mom in the picture?” Erica asks, and this time the question is actually directed at Stiles.

Stiles focuses on folding Tshirts and putting them into the dresser. But he shakes his head. “No. But Derek’s seeing someone.” Not really a lie, but not really the truth.

Erica makes a distressed sound, a sort of whining groan. “Too bad. She is one lucky woman.”

Derek and Scott come back into the room a few minutes later. Erica flirts and Derek pretends not to notice her coming onto him and Stiles sits bitterly in the corner and tries not to sulk.

Erica was right about one thing though; Derek’s ass really does look edible in those jeans. Stiles sends a text to Derek letting him know how this as soon as Stiles gets back to his own dorm room, and then he shamelessly jerks off to the image of it.

 

After a few weeks of classes, Stiles comes to realize that Erica isn’t so bad. She’s witty and smart and she reeks of confidence, and regardless of the fact that she still mentions how much of a DILF Derek is, Stiles grows fond of her. He likes her the most in his group of new friends. Scott’s roommate Isaac is sweet, like a puppy, and he doesn’t talk much but when he does, it’s thought out and insightful. With Isaac and Erica, comes Kira. She’s known Erica and Isaac since high school, though they only got closer coming into college. Stiles notices the way Scott gets nervous every time she’s around, starts stammering and blushing like a fool. But since Stiles is such a great friend, he never mentions it. And then there’s Stiles’ new roommate, Danny. He’s hot, for lack of a better description. And smart. Like genius level intelligence. And _abs_.

The first few weeks are actually the easiest for Stiles. Stiles can deal with a couple of weeks to himself. He might have blue balls after a while, but he’ll live. But when weeks turn into months, the nightmares and panic attacks start coming back full force. That’s when Stiles realizes he misses Derek the most. He hates waking up alone, shaking or crying, trying to stay quiet so he won’t wake up Danny. Scott is just a few floors up, but Stiles hates waking up Isaac in the middle of the night just to crawl into Scott’s bed and sob.

And so after a particularly bad dream, Stiles finds himself fumbling with his phone, dialing Derek’s number. To his surprise, Derek actually answers. Stiles doesn’t say anything, but as soon as Derek hears the sound of crying, he knows what’s wrong. Stiles’ body immediately relaxes when he hears Derek on the other end, whispering calming words and soothing things. When Stiles manages to quiet himself, Derek asks softly, “Are you still awake?”

Stiles makes a soft noise that kind of sounds like, “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you go get Scott?” Derek wonders.

Stiles curls into a ball, clutching the cell phone like a lifeline. He shrugs. “I didn’t want to wake up Isaac. And Scott has morning classes. And I like hearing your voice.”

Derek is quiet for a long time, but listening to his breathing is calming enough. Stiles tries to match it with his own intakes of breath. “Gonna fall asleep,” Stiles murmurs. “But I don’t wanna hang up.”

A soft chuckle escapes Derek. “Go to sleep,” He says. “You can call me in the morning.”

And Stiles does. He calls Derek just to thank him for last night, and then he heads off to class feeling a lot better than before.

 

There are parties constantly popping up around campus, mostly in the fraternities and sororities, basically every weekend. Once in awhile, there’s even a party in the dorm buildings; Usually an entire floor is bustling with people who are drinking too much and a stereo set up in someone’s room is blasting too-loud music. And apparently, near the beginning of December, the party is taking place on Stiles’ floor. And at first he tries to concentrate and study, like the mature student he is, but when Danny invites some guy back into their room for some “personal time,” Stiles has no choice but to abandon his work. He finds Erica and Isaac in the mass of students gathering in the halls. Erica pushes a red cup into his hands and he sips at it cautiously. Beer. He takes a bigger drink.

“Where’s Scott?” Stiles has to yell over the music and other conversations being held around them.

“He and Kira disappeared like twenty minutes ago,” Erica grins, then adds an exaggerated wink. “I bet you can guess what they’re doing.”

Stiles wants to feel sort of grossed out by the concept of Scott having sex, but he thinks that’s pretty hypocritical since Scott has witnessed his own father licking maple syrup of Stiles’ chest. So he just nods.

He’s not sure how it happens (actually he knows exactly how it happens; It includes about three more beers, a lot of filthy music, and groping hands while he’s dancing) but Stiles ends up with Erica pressed up against a well with her tongue down his throat. It feels… weird. Not sexy, but not horrible. Her hands are everywhere; Fingers scratching at his scalp while she pulls his hair, sliding down his chest, gripping onto his ass, fumbling with the button of his jeans.

“Your room,” She groans, biting down on Stiles’ lip. “Now.”

Stiles can only nod dumbly. They barely part when they stumble to the correct room and he pulls her inside. It’s dark now, but they manage to stagger in the right direction towards the bed, where Stiles lands with his back against the mattress. Erica straddles his thighs, kissing him again, and tugs at his shirt. Then she pulls off her own. Now, Stiles has always been pretty open about being attracted to both men and women. But looking up at the way Erica’s naked breasts bounce on her chest, the way she bites her lip seductively, how she grabs his hands and places them on her hips. It does nothing for him. And when she pulls Stiles’ jeans down to his thighs, dipping her head and taking him in her mouth, his dick jumps at the warmth but he doesn’t really feel anything. There’s no anxious knot in his stomach, there’s no passion. Only a drunken blowjob that makes Stiles feel kind of sick.

He pushes on Erica’s shoulders. She looks up at him with lustful eyes. And Stiles can only say, “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

Erica grins. “You don’t have to do anything, Stiles. Just lie back and enjoy. I’ll do all the work.” She goes to lower her head again, but Stiles squirms away, managing to nearly fall off the mattress. He pulls his jeans back up.

“No, I mean I don’t want to do this,” Stiles states. “I’m sorry. I think you should leave.”

Erica frowns, flips him off, and finds her shirt. She calls him a tease and then slams the door on her way out.

Stiles gathers some clean clothes and takes a long shower after that. He scrubs at his skin until it’s red, but he can’t get rid of the dirty feeling that seems to settle over him.

 

Erica finds Stiles the next day and apologizes. “I was drunk,” She says. “And I know that doesn’t excuse what I said, but I’m sorry for reacting the way I did. You didn’t want to have sex and I should have respected that.” Stiles smiles at her, pulling her in for a one-armed hug. “Can I ask why?” She wonders. “Like, I am hot. And I was half-naked and going down on you.”

Stiles laughs, nodding. “Yes, you’re hot. But… I think I’m kind in love with someone else. It just didn’t feel right with you.”

Erica is nodding slowly. “Okay. I get that.” She starts rambling on about one her classes and last night is in the past, easily forgotten. Except that Stiles can’t really forget it.

 

Scott and Stiles go home for Christmas break. Stiles makes his required appearance at his dad’s house first, but when his dad takes off for work, Stiles heads straight for the Hale house. He doesn’t knock. He barges into the house and finds Scott and Derek in the living room. Scott is telling him all about his new girlfriend Kira and Derek looks to be approving, but he insists that they meet soon.

Stiles stands in the doorway fidgeting, watching the two. Derek looks up, smiles warmly at Stiles, and Stiles just can’t take it anymore. He turns to Scott. “Hey. Can I talk to your dad for just a minute?”

Scott makes a face and says, “Eww. That’s so weird. I’m going upstairs. With headphones. But please keep it PG.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but Scott leaves them alone. As soon as he hears Scott’s bedroom door close, Stiles darts across the room and jumps into Derek’s lap. Their mouths connect in a clumsy kiss. Stiles revels in the feeling that bursts in his gut, like a million butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He loves the way Derek’s fingers stroke through his hair, the soft nips of those bunny teeth on his lip, the scrape of stubble across his jaw.

“I tried to sleep with someone else,” Stiles admits. “But I didn’t like it. I felt gross and dirty and can we please stop seeing other people now? Fuck, Derek. I took a few months, just like you asked, and I decided I still want you. Only you.”

Derek pulls Stiles back in for a heart stopping kiss. It’s soft and sweet and Stiles feels nothing but happiness swelling inside him. “Yes,” Derek finally says. His hands are grabbing onto Stiles’ coat, keeping him in place. As if Stiles even wanted to leave. “But you know what that means, right?”

Stiles grins. “It means I get to make love to you as much as we want. And we’ll go on dates. Real dates, right? Like shitty movie theaters  and cheap diners. It means we’ll be a real couple.”

Derek is nodding. “Yeah, all of that.” He places a soft kiss on Stiles’ lips, adding, “But this also means we have to tell your dad.”

And Stiles can feel the smile falling from his lips because Derek is right. And that is not a conversation Stiles is looking forward to.

 


	3. DILF

It was kind of traumatic, finding Stiles pinned to the table beneath Derek. Honestly, Scott was entitled to a freak out after seeing something like that. It took a long second, standing there dumbly in the kitchen doorway, before it actually registered what he was looking at; His dad’s back, ass up in the air. Hands gripping him, his best friend writhing underneath. And protectiveness swelled in Scott’s chest. It was instinct almost because Stiles is like his brother. And Scott always kind of assumed that Stiles felt the same. Scott figured Stiles saw Derek as a second dad.

And then Stiles admitted that he and Derek were having sex. A lot of it. And Scott started to realize that Stiles didn’t see Derek in quite the same way Scott did.

At first, Scott was livid. He felt betrayed and deceived and insignificant. They had lied to him for almost six months. It was like his opinion on the matter was invalid, but these were the two most important people in his life and they were messing around behind his back. Of course it involved him! But then he realized that maybe it was better if he removed himself from the situation. Because Stiles was right; This was ultimately between Stiles and Derek. And sure, their relationship had some effect on Scott, but he was an adult now; He took care of himself. He didn’t rely so heavily on his dad. He was moving out and he wanted his dad to be happy. Derek had his own life to live. His dad didn’t need Scott’s permission to date and neither did Stiles. It’s just kind of strange that they chose to date each other.

It was weird because Stiles was still his best friend. They were the same age. And yet, his dad was kind of dating Stiles. It got even weirder then because Scott saw the looks they gave each other, and the simple touches they shared, just their hands brushing or knees bumping when they sat side by side, and it all made sense in a way. Scott saw Stiles and Derek for the first time as a couple, not as his best friend and his dad. But as _StilesAndDerek._

_And it was fuckin’ weird._

The drive back to school after Christmas break is mostly silent. They’re about twenty minutes from the campus when Stiles clears his throat and says, “So I wanted to ask you something.”

Scott remains quiet, waiting for more.

After a long minute, Stiles tightens his hand on the steering wheel and softly asks, “Are you okay with it? With me and Derek?” There’s a pause and then Stiles is hurrying on. “Because I get it, if you’re not okay with it. And you’re like my brother, Scott. So you say the word and I’ll break it off. You know that, right?”

Scott turns abruptly in the passenger's seat, watching Stiles intently. He looks nervous. “Do you care about him?” Scott asks. “Like, really care? Or is it just about the sex?”

A small smile settles on Stiles’ lips as he glances at Scott. Then he says, “I think I love him, Scotty.”

Has Scott mentioned that this is seriously _really_ weird? Like, the thought of his dad and Stiles being butt-buddies is one thing. The idea of them actually being together, as a real couple, is something else entirely.

But Scott just nods slowly. “He makes you happy,” He states. It’s not a question because Scott can plainly see now just how happy Stiles is. “And I think you make him happy, too. I want you guys to be happy, even if that means you’re together.”

Stiles pulls the Jeep over onto the shoulder of the road, puts it in park just so he can climb across the center console and wrap Scott up in a too-tight hug. “Thanks, Scott,” He says.

Scott pulls him back so he can look Stiles straight in the eye and, with a very serious expression, says, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m not calling you Papa.”

 

Stiles does really well not to mention to anyone at Berkeley that he’s dating Scott’s dad. Scott is thankful for that. He may be alright with their relationship, but the students at Berkeley are kind of terrifying. Scott is already fairly well known around campus as “ _that kid with the DILF_ ” even though Derek had only visited at the beginning of the year when he helped Scott move in. He would rather not be known too as “ _that kid whose best friend is fucking his DILF._ ”

Toward the middle of February, Danny mentions “Stiles’ boyfriend” for the first time. Scott and Isaac are in the library, going over notes for their oral report due next week while Erica and Danny whisper about some transfer student who they apparently both want to bang. Stiles is reading quietly across the table. Somehow, the conversation turns back to Derek. “Have you seen him? He looks like sex.”

“Isn’t that kind of weird?” Danny says, looking amused. “Like, that’s Scott’s dad.”

Erica doesn’t seem to care. “He’s hot. Scott, you know you’re dad is hot, right?”

Scott makes a face. “Ew.”

Erica rolls her eyes. “Of course you think ew. He’s your dad. But objectively.”

Scott really doesn’t want to answer this. He sighs. “Objectively, yeah. I know people find him attractive.”

“See?” Erica holds up her hands, like Scott has just proven her point. Whatever her point is supposed to be. “And he’s only like forty, right?”

Scott mutters, “Thirty-five.”

“Even better,” Erica grins. She twirls a piece of blonde hair around her finger.

“Hate to burst your bubble, Erica,” Scott says. “But he’s not interested. He’s already seeing someone.”

Erica waves a hand around, dismissing this. “It’s not like I’m asking for his hand in marriage, Scott. I just wonder if he’s as good in bed as I assume he is. Stiles!”

Stiles looks up immediately when he hears his name enter the conversation. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, fumbling with his book a bit. “Wh-What?”

“Scott’s dad,” Erica says simply. “You’d tap that, right?

Stiles looks like he wants to bolt. His eyes meet Scott’s, panicked. But before he can answer, Danny frowns, looking sort of amused. “That’s not a fair position to put him in. Stiles has a _boyfriend_.”

“Stiles has a boyfriend?” Erica asks, mouth agape. And Scott really wants no part of this conversation. Stiles fidgets uncomfortably under her intense scrutiny. Then he shrugs. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it, but Erica is unrelenting. “Since when? Does he go here? What’s his name?”

Stiles opens his mouth to reply again, but Danny chuckles. “Don’t waste your breath, Erica. He won’t answer anything. Believe me, I’ve tried asking.” Then he whispers loudly, “Stiles probably made him up.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, sighing like he’s had this conversation a million times before. “I did not make him up. He’s not pretend or imaginary. I just don’t want to talk about it, Danny.”

Erica pouts. “So why won’t you tell us his name?”

Stiles throws his arms up. “Because I don’t want to talk about it!” A few people glare in their direction, shushing him because oh right, they’re in a library. Stiles stands up, pulling his backpack with him. “I’m gonna head out. I’ll see you later, Scotty.” He doesn’t say goodbye to anyone else.

When Stiles is gone, Erica frowns, looking sad. “I didn’t mean to make him mad,” She says. “I’m just curious. Scott, you’re his best friend; Does Stiles really have a boyfriend?”

And Scott does not want to be in this position. “It’s his business,” Scott says evasively. “If he doesn’t want to talk about it, that’s his choice.”

 

There are a few more mentions of Stiles’ elusive boyfriend after that, but nobody presses the issue further when Stiles changes the subject. By the time spring break rolls around, everyone has all but forgotten about the mystery man. Erica spends most of her time talking about going to the beach and picking up some hot older man to take home and Danny mentions going to his friend’s lake house with a group of people. Stiles pulls Scott aside and tells him that he’s going back to Beacon Hills for the break.

“I was planning on spending break with Derek,” Stiles admits in a low voice, sounding wary. “If that’s okay?”

Scott simply laughs. “Dude, you can stop asking me for permission. You’re… _dating_ him. You want to spend spring break with him, that’s fine. Just don’t tell me details. Any details. I do not want to know anything specific.”

Stiles chuckles and nods. “Yeah, okay. I just wanted to make sure it was okay with you. I mean, if you wanted to go home for spring break, I can spend the time with my dad instead. It’s fine.”

Scott shakes his head. “No, it’s totally fine. I’ll probably hang out with Kira. Maybe we’ll go to the beach or something. Have fun. And be careful, okay?”

Stiles hugs Scott again and takes off toward Beacon Hills.

 

After some debate and bickering, Scott thinks of the perfect way to spend spring break. “My dad owns this condo along the coast. He inherited the place from his parents or something and we used to go down there all the time when I was a kid.”

“We should totally go,” Kira says enthusiastically. “I mean, if you don’t think your dad will mind.”

Scott shakes his head. “No, we haven’t been there in years. The place is basically deserted and it’s right on the beach. It’ll be awesome.”

So the next day, Scott piles into the car with Erica, Isaac, and Kira, and they drive toward the condo. Scott remembers coming here when he was younger, spending summer vacations playing in the sand and splashing in the ocean. Then a few years ago, they stopped coming. Scott doesn’t really remember why, but he thinks it had something to do with his Aunt Laura dying. The condo had belonged to Derek’s parents and Derek had spent his own childhood vacationing in the same spot. When Derek’s sister died, maybe it was too painful to keep coming back to the place that held so many memories.

When they arrive at the condo, Scott helps unpack the suitcases from the trunk. He presses in the code on the door he remembers by heart and the front door unlocks. “Find a room,” He tells everyone. “And then I want to check out the beach.”

Kira drops her suitcase in the living room and takes a look around, gazing in awe at the place. Isaac and Erica race down the hall toward the bedrooms. Scott simply stands in the middle of the front room, taking a deep breath and letting memories of his childhood here come back to him. But he’s pulled out of his reverie when Kira peeks her head around the corner, jabbing a thumb in the direction Scott recalls the kitchen being.

“Hey,” She says, her eyebrows creasing. “Are you sure this place is empty? There are dirty dishes in the sink. And they look kind of fresh.”

Just at that moment, Erica’s scream disrupts the serenity. “Oh shit!”

Scott only hesitates for a second before racing down the hall where the exclamation came from. He reaches her just in time to see Erica slam a door shut and press her back against it. Her hand it tight on the doorknob, eyes huge. She looks like she’s just seen a ghost.

“Erica,” Scott reaches out to put his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Oh _shit_ ,” Erica mutters. “Holy fuck. Oh no no no no no.”

“ _Erica_ ,” Scott tries again, trying to sound stern. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He feels Isaac and Kira’s presence behind him, both of them quietly awaiting to know what the hell Erica is screaming about.

“There’s… Um…” Erica tries her best to form words, but she stutters and shakes her head. “We are… not alone. Someone is here.”

Scott freezes. Is there some homeless person squatting in the condo? “What? Who the hell is in there?” Scott moves to get around Erica. He’s prepared to barge into the room and threaten to call the cops.

But Erica puts both of her hands against his chest. “No, Scott. You _really_ don’t want to do that.”

“What are you talking about?” Scott demands. If there’s someone in the condo, he needs to know. He needs to kick them out.

But then the door swings open behind Erica and Scott is met with a familiar pair of dark eyes staring back at him. “ _Stiles_?” He asks dumbly. “Dude, what are you doing here?”

Stiles frowns. He flails for a second. And then Derek appears behind Stiles and it all makes sense.

“Mr. Hale?” Kira squeaks. Her gaze flits between Stiles and Derek.

Erica looks expectantly between them as well, then her face softens and she looks to Scott, like she’s waiting for his reaction. When nobody speaks, she blurts out, “They were fucking.”

Scott groans and covers his ears, like he can unhear that statement. “Eww gross.” Then he points a finger accusingly at Stiles. “Dude, I told you; I don’t want details!”

Stiles throws up his arms dramatically, like a silent _this is my fault?!_

Scott sighs heavily. “I thought you guys were staying in Beacon Hills this week.”

“We were going to,” Derek says. “But I wanted to surprise Stiles. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I didn’t want to stay on campus for spring break,” Scott says petulantly, folding his arms across his chest. He shrugs. “Do you want us to leave?”

“No,” Stiles says, his voice hard. Leaving no room for argument. “You guys stay. I’m making pancakes and we’re gonna move out of this hallway because it’s too damn small for six people. We’re taking this conversation to the kitchen.”

Stiles slips around Erica. Suddenly it feels awkward to just stand here, so they all follow behind. Derek makes coffee while Stiles flips pancakes at the stove. Scott sits on the counter to his right while Erica, Isaac, and Kira claim empty chairs at the table. Stiles asks Scott about the drive here and Scott wonders about the beach and if it’s very crowded this year. It all feels strangely domestic and normal. Scott isn’t really surprised when Erica looks at him, throwing her arms around wildly. “Why the hell aren’t you freaking out about this?!”

Scott glances between Derek and Stiles, watching as his dad places a hand on the small of Stiles’ back when he hands him a mug of coffee. He shrugs, grimaces, and says, “Because I already knew they were together.”

The three at the table gape at him. Erica sputters unattractively a bit, struggling with words. “You’re okay with _your dad_ fucking your _best friend_?”

“Dating,” Scott corrects, accepting the mug of coffee Derek hands him. “My dad is _dating_ my best friend.”

They fall silent again, nothing but the hiss of the skillet frying the pancakes. And then, with a thoughtful look, Isaac nods. “I can see it.”

“For how long!?” Erica screeches, ignoring Isaac’s comment.

“Officially, about four months,” Stiles replies, sliding a pancake onto a plate. “But unofficially, a little over a year.”

Scott makes gagging noises because he knows that “unofficially” is a nice way of saying how long they’ve been having sex. And that’s still kinda (really) gross.

Stiles finishes the pancakes and the plates are handed around until everyone is seated uncomfortably around the table. Scott focuses on eating, letting his friends digest the information they just discovered. The room is filled with the sound of chewing and forks scraping against ceramic and Stiles’ leg bouncing anxiously under the table. When he’s done, Stiles pushes his plate back and clears his throat. “We can leave,” He offers. “He’s looking directly at Scott. “We can head back to Beacon Hills and you guys can have the condo for the week.”

“That’s not fair,” Scott frowns. “You guys were here first. And besides, you’re my best friend. You should be spending spring break with us.”

Stiles looks uncomfortable. “This wasn’t about spring break,” He blurts out. It looks like instinct when Stiles reaches out and wraps his hand in Derek’s. Then he takes a breath, looks down at the table and says, “Derek and I were thinking about possibly maybe moving in together after the school year ends. Derek brought me here to kind of test it out. To see what it would be like if we had a place together.” He finally looks up to meet Scott’s eyes. “I’m telling my dad about this--” He gestures between himself and Derek. “--as soon as classes end. And I know he’s gonna be pissed. We were kind of planning, you know, in case he decided to kick me out.”

Scott isn’t sure what to think. He feels betrayed again, but he also feels content. Stiles was thinking about moving in with Scott’s dad and no one thought it would be important to ask what Scott thought of it. In a way, his opinion doesn’t matter anyway because he had mentioned a few times before about possibly finding an apartment in Berkeley to share with Kira. Scott realizes this is serious, the relationship that Stiles and Derek have. And that makes Scott happy, knowing they have each other.

In the end, Scott just takes a deep breath. “I can be there, if you want,” He says. “When you tell your dad.”

Stiles just smiles and then scrambles across the table (who walks around a table when you can climb across it?) shoving plates out of the way, to pull Scott into a big hug. “You’re the best friend ever,” Stiles states.

And Scott was afraid at first, when he found out that Stiles and Derek were actually a _thing_ , because he didn’t want to be left behind or forgotten. It was a different relationship, but Scott couldn’t help but fear they would both replace him. Stiles and Derek would have each other and Scott would be left out in the cold. But as he hugs Stiles back, he realizes he’s not losing either of them. He still has his best friend and his dad. They just have each other now, too, and Scott decides that that’s okay.


	4. Carry On My Wayward Son

****It was never a good sign when Stiles made red meat. In the years since Claudia died, Stiles was very adamant that John eat healthy, and that meant no red meats. No curly fries. No pie. Even when Stiles was away at college, he would constantly call and check up (even going so far as to bribe the deputies) to make sure John was eating right.

So when John comes home the week before summer vacation to find Stiles flipping burgers in the kitchen, John knew something bad was going to happen. He takes off his gun belt and locks it away in the safe, changes into a pair of more comfortable pants, and then sits down at the table just as Stiles is sliding a plate in front of him. A burger _and_ fries. This must be really bad.

John sighs, leaning back in his chair. “What did you do now, Stiles?”

Stiles sits opposite of him, no food. He crosses his arms, uncrosses them, fidgets in the seat, and then bounces his leg. “Why do you think I did something? I’m just here to see you.”

John scoffs. But he takes a bite of his burger, chews thoughtfully, then stuffs some fries into his mouth. “Are you failing one of your classes?” He wonders. Stiles looks affronted. “I mean, it’s only your first year, kid. We can work something out if you’re failing.”

Stiles frowns. “I’m not failing. I’ve actually got good grades. Thanks for your vote of confidence, Dad.”

“College is good,” John amends. “So there’s something else wrong. Did you break the law?”

Still frowning, Stiles says, “No.” And John hates this guessing game. So he decides to wait. Stiles will eventually crack and tell him what’s bothering him, so John focuses on savoring his burger. He finishes the sandwich and is working on his fries when Stiles finally word vomits. “I’m seeing someone.”

John turns his full attention to his son. “Good for you, kid.”

Stiles grimaces. “I don’t know if you’ll think so,” He grumbles.

John lifts an eyebrow. “Is it someone you met at college?” Stiles shakes his head silently. Apparently they’re back to the guessing game. “Someone from online?” Another no. “Okay. Do I know this person?” Stiles hesitates and then nods. So John puts his hand down on the table a little too forcefully, making Stiles jump. “It’s Scott!”

Stiles looks offended. “What? No!”

“Oh,” Is all John says. It would make sense if it was Scott. Those two have always been close, but maybe more in a brotherly sense.

In a small voice, Stiles says, “But… You’re kinda close.”

Stiles won’t meet his eyes. His hands wring in his lap. He looks paler than usual. And John is a cop so he knows the signs to look for when interrogating people, but he’s also a dad and he knows that he can’t push Stiles too hard or else Stiles will freeze up and not say anything.

“Okay,” John eventually says slowly. “Do you want to tell me who it is?”

There’s a long time where Stiles doesn’t say anything. He closes his eyes. And then he breathes in deeply and mumbles, “It’s Derek Hale.”

John doesn’t react right away. He can’t. He feels immobilized, like his body has just shut down. Is he having a heart attack? Is this what a heart attack feels like? But no, he’s just… shocked. He points a finger in Stiles’ direction. “That’s not funny.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I’m not laughing.”

But John is. He chuckles and then snorts and Stiles still won’t look at him. “You’re not serious,” John states. “Because I know there’s no way either of you would be that stupid.”

Stiles flinches. And that’s what makes John realize that Stiles is telling the truth. John pushes his chair back, standing. He feels a lot of things. Angry. Furious. Confused. “Stiles,” He says. When his son doesn’t react, John raises his voice. “Stiles!” Stiles startles, but looks up. John can feel his face burning red, his hands shaking. “That man,” He spits. “Did he fucking touch you?”

Stiles looks surprised, but shakes his head. “No!” Then his face pales and he swallows hard. “I mean… Yeah.” He throws his hands up. “But not like you’re thinking! Dad, he didn’t--”

But John isn’t listening. He’s fuming. Seeing red. He wants to shoot something. Some _one_. John looks straight at his son. “Stiles,” He says in a low voice. “You answer me right now; Did Derek Hale lay his hands on you?”

“Dad--” Stiles starts to shake his head.

“Answer me!” John commands. “Did you or did you not have sex with him?”

Stiles looks down. His lip shakes. His eyes close. And then finally, he says, “Yes. I've had sex with him.”

John wants to murder him. Derek Hale touched his child, he violated Stiles, took advantage of him, and he wants to strangle the other man. Wants to feel his bones snap like toothpicks.

“Dad, it’s not what you think, okay?!” Stiles is on his feet now, both hands out in a non-violent gesture. Surrender. He looks like he’s surrendering.

John laughs. “What I think is that I’m going to kill him,” He states. “I could arrest his perverse ass after what he did to you, Stiles, but I want to kill him myself.”

“He didn’t do anything to me!” Stiles shouts. “Dad, I wanted it!”

John is shaking his head. “That bastard has got you thinking that this kind of thing is okay? Stiles, it’s not okay. He’s _sixteen_ years older than you. He is a grown man. And he’s twisting your mind around to think that being together is _okay_?”

Stiles looks taken back. In a low voice, he asks, “Is this because we’re both guys? Or because he’s older than me?”

“He is Scott’s _father!_ ” John yells. “This isn’t about you liking men! It’s about Derek taking advantage of you!”

“He didn’t take advantage of me, Dad! I asked him for it!” Stiles’ face is red. His chest is heaving. “If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me! Derek didn’t do anything I didn’t fucking want!”

John is shaking his head. He’s not listening to this garbage. Stiles obviously isn’t thinking clearly. It all comes back to Derek, who somehow convinced Stiles that it was a good idea for them to be sleeping together. John wants to ask how long it’s been going on, but he’s not really sure he wants to know. Instead, he points a finger at Stiles. “Call him. Right now. I want him to get his ass over here and tell me to my fucking face that he’s sleeping with my son.”

Stiles frowns. “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re really upset right now and I think you should calm down first.”

Holding up his hands, John says, “I just want to talk to him. _Call him._ ”

Stiles frowns some more, but eventually pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and puts it to his ear. John only hears his side of the conversation. “Hey, it’s me… Yeah, not great. He actually wants you to come over… He probably most likely won’t shoot you right away… Okay. I’ll see you soon.” Stiles hangs up and replaces his phone, then turns to John. “He’s coming. Dad, I don’t want you blaming him. This was my choice, okay?”

John thinks he might cry. This is his son, his only child, and it’s not okay.

The doorbell rings ten minutes later. John waits in the kitchen while Stiles goes to greet Derek. When they come back into the room, their shoulders are touching. And that pisses John off. This man should not be able to touch his son, even in that insignificant way.

“Sheriff,” Derek nods respectively.

“Cut the shit, Hale,” John snaps. “Are you, or are you not fucking my son?”

Derek looks pale. He looks like he wants to run in the opposite direction. And strangely enough, he looks so young fidgeting under John’s scrutiny. But Derek clears his throat and then meets the Sheriff’s eyes. “Stiles and I are in a relationship. Yes.”

“A relationship,” John repeats. “A sexual relationship?”

Derek ducks his head. “Yes sir.”

John is across the room in an instant, his closed fist connecting with Derek’s nose. There’s a satisfying crunch and the dull ache across his knuckles makes him feel better. Derek stumbles back, but manages to keep his feet under him. Stiles grabs Derek’s arm, steadying him, and then turns a panicked look on his dad. “You said you wanted to talk!” Stiles shouts.

John huffs out a breath, ignoring Stiles. He glares at Hale. “How long have you been doing this?” He asks. His voice is deadly, though it’s spoken calm and quiet. “Stiles has been having sleepovers at your house for years. Did it start when he was ten?”

“Dad!” Stiles exclaims

Derek straightens up, looking angry as well. “I’m not a fucking pedophile,” He states.

John snorts. “Stiles is a kid--”

“Stiles is _twenty_ ,” Derek retorts. “He may be your kid, but he’s not a child. He chose this. He’s old enough to make decisions about his own life.”

“Well, it’s not happening under my roof,” John states. “Now if you know what’s good for you, you get the hell out of my house. And if I see you near my son again, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

Stiles takes a step in front of Derek, closer to John. He squares his shoulders, looking more grown-up than John has ever seen him, though hurt flashes in his eyes. “You can’t make my choices for me, Dad,” He tells John. “I’m going with him.”

“Stiles--” John starts to argue, but Stiles shakes his head.

“No. I am going with Derek and you won’t stop me.” Stiles sighs softly. “I love you, Dad. But I love Derek, too.”

John can only watch, dumbfounded, as Stiles puts his hand on Derek’s shoulder and they both disappear out of his life in an instant.

 

John doesn’t hear from Stiles for two weeks. He knows that classes at the college end and Stiles should be coming home. But he’s not. The dorms are closing down for the summer, Stiles needs to come home. But he doesn’t. And John knows without being told where he is; Stiles is with Derek. He’s in Derek’s house, in Derek’s bed, _living with Derek Hale._

And it hurts John to know that.

As a dad, John wants to storm over to the Hale house and drag his son home by his balls. But he also knows that he can’t. Stiles was right; This is his choice. His mistake. And sooner or later, John is sure Stiles will realize that having a relationship with the older man was a bad idea and he will come home.

When John comes home one night, two weeks after their fight, to a missed call from Stiles, John actually smiles; This is it. This is when Stiles realizes his mistake. He’s calling to ask if he can come home.

John listens to the voice message.

_“Hey dad. It’s me. Stiles. Umm… I know you’re still probably mad at me, but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m still here for you. Are you eating okay? I called Deputy Parrish, he said you were still sneaking Crunch bars in your desk drawer. I already knew that. Just take it easy, alright? Don’t overdo it. And eat those turkey burgers I left in the freezer, don’t go buy the beef ones. The beef is bad. And the carrot sticks in the fridge, eat those before they go bad. I love you, Dad. And you can call me back. If you want. I want you to. Okay. Bye.”_

The message ends and John puts the phone down. He isn’t crying. He isn’t. His eyes are sweating. He doesn’t cry for about ten more minutes, and then he picks up the phone and dials Stiles’ number. But he can’t bring himself to press the talk button. Instead, he goes back to the voice message and listens to it again. When it ends this time, he deletes it and puts the phone back.

 

A month passes. Stiles calls again, every week. John lets it go to voicemail and every time, Stiles leaves a message just checking up on him. Making sure everything is okay. And every time, John listens, almost calls Stiles back, and then cries for a few minutes before deleting the message.

It’s a Monday evening when John gets off a long shift at work and heads to the grocery store before he plans on going home and sleeping for twelve straight hours. He’s got a basket hanging off one arm and he’s comparing the beef burgers when he hears a familiar voice.

_Stiles._

“No, dude. I am telling you, Lucky Charms are way better than Froot Loops.”

And then a spark of anger shoots down John’s spine when he hears Derek’s scoff in return. “Nothing beats Froot Loops. Except maybe Cookie Crisp.”

John turns his head slightly to see Stiles and Derek standing near the end of the cereal aisle. Derek is pushing a shopping cart while Stiles clutches a box of Lucky Charms to his chest. He watches as Stiles puts the box back on the shelf and grab Derek’s shoulders. Then he presses a kiss to Derek’s lips. John cringes.

“This is why I love you,” Stiles states, pulling away. He throws a box of Cookie Crisp into the shopping cart.

Derek laughs, a fond smile warping his features in a way John hasn’t seen before. He looks happy. “You love me because I have good taste in cereal?”

Stiles replies, his arms flailing comically as he talks, but John doesn’t hear his response because they’re turning the other way and heading down another aisle. They don’t even see John.

John stands there, frozen, for a few minutes longer. Then he puts the beef burgers back and goes to grab a pack of the turkey ones instead.

 

A week later, John finds himself standing on the doorstep of the Hale house. He fidgets, feeling sort of awkward. He probably isn’t welcome here, but he couldn’t bring himself to call. He wants to see his son in person.

John lifts a hand and knocks.

A moment later, the door swings open and John is staring straight at Derek Hale. Derek’s face falls, his expression turning blank. He looks sort of scared. He probably thinks John is here to punch him again.

“Sheriff,” Derek greets.

“Derek,” John nods. “Umm… I was wondering if Stiles is here.”

He waves one hand back toward the inside of the house. “Yeah,” Derek says. “He’s actually in the shower right now.”

John looks down at his shoes. “Good. I sort of wanted to speak with you.” A short pause. “Can I come in?”

Derek hesitates, nods, and opens the door farther. They end up seated uncomfortably in the living room. They don’t really look at each other and neither of the men speak for a long time. John can hear the shower somewhere in the distance.

“I’m sorry for accusing you,” John says. Clears his throat. “About before.” He sighs. He doesn’t know how to apologize to Derek for wrongly accusing him of raping Stiles. He doesn’t have experience with this kind of thing.

Derek surprises John by releasing a soft laugh. “I can’t say you were wrong.” John’s head snaps up and he feels the anger returning once again. Derek throws his hands up. “No! That’s not what I meant! I just mean that, if I were in your position… If it were Scott… I would have assumed the same thing. You had every right to assume the worst. It’s what dads do. I just mean that I understand.” John relaxes a bit, nodding slowly. Derek exhales. “I would never do that to Stiles-- to anyone. I’d never pressure Stiles into anything. And he was nineteen the first time it happened. It was never illegal.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s _right_ ,” John argues. But his voice is already defeated.

“I know that,” Derek says, only a breath. He’s looking down at his hands. “I was scared at first because I know the position it would put you in, that it put _Scott_ in.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t want to lose Stiles. And I know that you hate me right now and maybe you’ll never be okay with what Stiles and I have, but--”

“Does Scott know?” John asks suddenly.

Derek nods without hesitation. “He’s known for about a year now.”

It baffles John that his son has been in a relationship with Derek for that long and John hasn’t even known for two months. “How did he react?”

Derek sucks in a sharp breath and chuckles. “He was mad at first,” He admits. “But he knew that, in the end, it was our choice; Me and Stiles. And he realizes that Stiles and I love each other.”

John curses the sudden lump in his throat. He pretends that his eyes aren’t growing wet again. He swallows hard. “Is my son happy here?” John demands. It sounds almost like a plea. Like he’s begging Derek to say yes.

A smile twitches on Derek’s lips, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he nods over John’s shoulder. “Maybe you should ask him.”

John turns around to see Stiles standing in the doorway, watching the exchange silently. John stands only to be almost knocked over when Stiles throws his arms around his dad, holding him tightly. “I am, Dad,” Stiles says and his voice is thick with emotion. “I’m really _really_ happy here.”

And really, that’s all that John could ever want.


	5. Can't Help Falling In Love

**** Derek regrets some of his choices. He’s human. He’s made mistakes. He regrets losing his virginity to a near stranger in the stuffy backseat of a car. He regrets pulling away from his family after Scott was born, claiming that he was an adult and he could take care of the child on his own, though he knew he could barely take care of himself. He regrets not telling Laura what a great big sister she was before she died.

Having Scott was never a regret. Sure, he used to wonder what life would have been like if he hadn’t entered early parenthood. He could have gone to college, maybe even gotten a scholarship for baseball. Or maybe he would have become one of those elusive writers who lurked in dark basements with bottomless glasses of whiskey, writing science fiction or murder mysteries.

But life happened, and Derek did none of those things. Instead, he became a dad. He learned how to potty train a two year old when he was eighteen. The first real food he ever made was mac and cheese, and he burned it to the bottom of the pan, not that little Scott cared as he munched away on the blackened cheese.

Life was hard. Nobody could deny that Derek was a good dad-- sometimes he messed up, but he was trying his hardest and he was learning. He cared about his son more than anything, more than himself. Somewhere between the diapers, and the mac and cheese, and explaining puberty, Derek kind of forgot about his own life. It was hard to imagine, having a life separate from Scott. An adult life.

A  _ sex  _ life.

That’s what Derek blames it on the first time he sleeps with Stiles.

It’s hard to recall all the details at any given time. The whole night was a fumbling mess of hands and lips and dizzying thoughts. When he pressed Stiles down against the mattress, feeling the teenager’s moans reverberating through him, Derek let instinct take control. He didn’t think, only felt. And dammit, it felt good.

Derek hadn’t been with a guy since he was seventeen, his first boyfriend. It hadn’t lasted long, but even then, he knew he liked it more than the times he’d been with a girl. It was such a different experience; Masculine hands and scratching hair, strong grips and low moans. Being with Stiles only amplified that feeling.

When he woke up the next morning, the sudden realization of what he’d done coming back full force, Derek felt sick. He’d taken advantage of Stiles for his own selfish pleasures. But Stiles wasn’t angry like Derek expected him to be. He was soft and calm, and his usual sarcastic self. It was strange because it almost felt as if nothing had changed when, in fact, everything was different now.

Derek liked having an active sex life. He enjoyed touching Stiles freely, being touched in return. He hadn’t been with anyone in so long, he almost forgot what it was like to be intimate with someone. Yet, there was something about being intimate with Stiles, something that made it so much better. There was no pressure. It was easy to just enjoy it.

That’s why he didn’t realize at first that he was falling in love. And when he did realize it, it scared the shit out of him. 

Derek had never been in love before. When he was a teenager, he slept with a few people just because he could. There were no feelings that came with the sex, just pleasure. He had his whole life to fall in love, he’d told himself. And when Scott came along, falling in love became a dream, just out of reach. It became an idea in a book, words on a page. Nothing more. Until he fell in love with Stiles.

 

It was the summer after Stiles’ first year of college when Stiles moved in. John Stilinski had reacted exactly how Derek feared he might at discovering Stiles’ relationship with an older man; Angrily. Violently. He wasn’t surprised at John’s reaction, had actually kind of anticipated it. But Derek was none too happy about living together under these circumstances.

Derek felt at fault. It was his fault John kicked Stiles out of the house. His fault Stiles was cast away by his only living family. It didn’t matter how often Stiles shrugged nonchalantly and said, “My dad will come around, just like Scott did. He just needs some time.” Derek blamed himself.

 

They’d only lived together for a couple of weeks when Stiles and Derek go on their first date. It’s the first date Derek has been on since he was a teenager and dammit, he was nervous.

It’s already dark outside when Derek parks the car at the diner. This was something they’d agreed on previously. They were both wary about being seen together, as a couple, for the first time in public. Stiles had suggested a late dinner where the chance was less likely for them to be seen by people they knew.

However, when they’re seated at a booth across from each other, menus in hand, Derek casts a quick glance around the diner. There’s a table across the room seating two couples. Derek recognizes a boy who had been on the lacrosse team with Stiles and Scott in high school, but he doesn’t remember a name. A pretty redheaded girl is seated next to him. And across from them, an older couple. The boy’s parents. Mister and Misses Whittemore. He remembers them from the few games they’d attended as the parents who criticized their son the whole time, even when the team won a game.

Derek manages to calm himself, relax, and listen to Stiles’ rambling. He’s not doing anything wrong; He’s having dinner with his boyfriend. It doesn’t matter who else is there, as long as Stiles is next to him.

Stiles is fretting about his dad while Derek quietly eats his pancakes, listening attentively, when Stiles suddenly stops talking and snorts out a laugh. He muffles the laughter behind his hand.

“What?” Derek asks around a mouthful of food.

“You have syrup in your beard,” Stiles says, grinning.

Derek wipes at his face, but Stiles just chuckles some more, shaking his head fondly. “Here.” He reaches across the table to wipe the syrup with his thumb, instinctively bringing it to his own mouth to lick it away.

It’s such a normal gesture by now, but it makes Derek freeze. Derek looks up to the table across the room where the boy has taken notice of them. The Whittemore boy is watching Derek and Stiles, leaning across the table to talk in a low voice to his parents. And then the parents are watching them, too.

Derek meets Mister Whittemore’s gaze for barely a second, but the older man frowns. In his eyes, Derek can see everything that strangers must see when they look at Stiles and Derek; Judgement, disapproval, disgust. 

Derek looks down at the table, swallowing hard around the suddenly dry food in his mouth. Stiles doesn’t seem to notice, as he starts babbling again. “I should call my dad,” He decides. “To at least make sure he’s doing okay.”

Derek chokes on his words, his hands shaking, when he whispers, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Stiles looks up, swallows, and frowns. “Do what? If you’re not finishing your french fries, can I have them?”

Pulling out his wallet, Derek throws down a couple of bills he’s sure covers the check.

“Whoa, wait. Are we done?”

But Derek doesn’t justify Stiles’ protests with a response, standing up.

Stiles scrambles to catch up, following Derek outside. When they’re in the car, Stiles turns in his seat to watch his boyfriend. “Are you alright? You look kind of pale. Are you sick?”

“I’m sorry,” Derek mutters. He can’t meet Stiles’ gaze, his hands gripping too tight on the steering wheel. When Stiles puts a hand on his arm, Derek flinches.

“Derek, talk to me,” Stiles says softly. “What happened in there?”

Shaking his head, Derek says, “I want to get out of here. We can talk when we get home.”

Stiles isn’t convinced, but he sits back in his seat and waits patiently while Derek starts the car and they pull away from the diner.

Back at the house, Derek begins pacing. Stiles stands near the wall, simply watching as Derek tugs at his hair. Eventually, the silence starts to itch Stiles’ skin and he steps forward, grabbing Derek’s hands. They stand face to face.

“What’s up with you?” Stiles asks. “You’re freaking me out.”

“I thought I could do it, but back there…” Derek pauses, shaking his head. “Those people saw you touch me.”

“This is because I touched you?” Stiles’ frown deepens. He raises their clasped hands. “I’m touching you right now.” He presses his hand against Derek’s cheek, stroking fingers through his stubble. “Touching you again. That doesn’t explain why we left halfway through our first actual date.”

“Because of those people!” Derek feels like his skin is on fire suddenly and he pulls away from Stiles’ touch to resume pacing. “You saw them, right? The other family in the diner.”

“Yeah, I saw them,” Stiles says slowly. “Jackson Whittemore? He was there with his parents and girlfriend. So what?”

“They saw us,” Derek states. “They saw you touch me.”

“We’re dating, Derek. Most couples touch.”

“But now they know we’re dating,” Derek argues.

“Scott knows. My dad knows.” Stiles knows his voice is rising, just short of a yell, but he doesn’t care. “Who the fuck cares if Jackson and his parents saw us? I thought we were done hiding this. That’s why we told my dad, Derek. So that we could be together, a real couple. I don’t understand why this is such a big deal.”

“Of course you wouldn’t understand!” Derek yells. “Because you’re a fucking kid!”

The silence that fills the air is deafening. There’s a charged tension between them, a buzzing like static electricity on their skin. Neither of the men speak. And then, without saying a word, Stiles grabs his car keys off the coffee table and he steps toward the door.

“Stiles,” Derek starts, but it’s soft. Weak. It already sounds like a goodbye.

Stiles doesn’t even look back when he slams the door behind him, and then he’s gone.

 

When Derek finally realizes what a huge mistake he’s made, he calls Stiles. The younger man doesn’t answer. Derek thinks about calling John, but if Stiles did go back to his dad’s house, he doubts either of the Stilinski men want to hear from him.

So he waits. Derek sits for awhile and scowls at the floor. Then he paces a little longer. It’s past two in the morning when Derek falls asleep on the couch, curled around one of Stiles’ sweatshirts.

 

In the morning, Derek awakens to the smell of coffee. He stirs, burying his face into the pillow, inhaling the smell of Stiles. It takes a few groggy minutes before Derek remembers how the night ended, with Stiles storming out. Shifting on the couch, Derek groans.

“I hope sleeping on the couch was as uncomfortable as it looks.” The voice is familiar and, even though the words are bitter, it makes Derek smile. He sits up to see Stiles standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a mug of coffee in his hands.

Derek lets his head fall forward into his hands. His neck hurts and his spine feel crooked from sleeping on the lumpy cushions. Instead of answering, he asks, “Did you go back to your dad’s last night?”

Stiles snorts and moves to sit next to Derek. He hands him the mug. “No. I was pissed, but I’m not stupid. We had a fight. That doesn’t mean I was going to run home to my father just to hear him say  _ I told you so _ .” Derek sips tentatively at the coffee, watching Stiles shrug. “I drove around for awhile, then took a walk through the preserve to clear my head.”

“It was past midnight,” Derek says fretfully. “And you went through the preserve by yourself? You could’ve gotten lost. Or eaten. Stiles, there are wolves out there.”

“I did get lost,” Stiles admits, nodding. “It was almost three when I got back to my jeep and then when I got back here, you were passed out on the couch, cuddling with my sweatshirt. So I went to bed.”

It feels so domestic and cliche-- Derek slept on the sofa after his and Stiles’ first real fight-- that it makes Derek laugh out loud. He watches the coffee slosh around in his mug and then sets it down on the table to turn and face Stiles. “I was an asshole,” He states.

Stiles lifts his hand, like he wants to touch Derek, but he stops short and lets his arm fall limp into his lap. He’s silent for a long time and he doesn’t look up he asks, “Do you regret it? Being with me? Having sex that first night?”

Derek takes a second to think, really think about it, and then shakes his head. “No. Never. I don’t regret sleeping with you and I don’t regret falling in love.”

“Are you embarrassed?” Stiles wonders.

“Not of you,” Derek admits. “But… Sometimes I look at you, and I remember that you’re my son’s best friend. I’ve known you since you were ten, and now I share a bed with you. I don’t see you as that kid anymore. I look at you now and you’re this amazing, beautiful, intelligent man. You’re not a kid and I know that.” He sighs, biting down on his lip. “But it’s hard to remember that when people look at our relationship and all they see is a teenager and some pedophile.”

“You’re not a pedophile, Derek.” Stiles holds Derek’s jaw in his hand, brushing his fingers along his neck. “You said it yourself; When you look at me, you don’t see some kid. You see me as I am now. An adult. A competent man, capable of making my own decisions. If people can’t accept that, that’s their problem.”

Derek is still frowning. “My own son accused me of raping you. Your dad assumed I’d been bad-touching you for years--”

“But you didn’t,” Stiles interrupts in a hard voice. “I made the first move, Derek. Not you. You can’t help it if my charm was too powerful for your feeble mind.”

Derek chuckles, rolling his eyes.

Proudly, Stiles nudges him and grins. “I made you laugh.”

“You always make me laugh,” Derek says.

Stiles leans forward, surprising Derek by catching him in a slow kiss. When it breaks, Stiles rests their foreheads together. “I love you,” He whispers, and the soft words are like a tidal wave in Derek’s ears. “You make me happy. I don’t think that’s wrong.”

Derek nips at Stiles’ lip, curling a hand around the back of his neck to feel him close. “I’ve never been in love before,” Derek tells him. “I’m probably gonna screw up a lot.”

“But we’ll handle it,” Stiles says. “Together. We’ll fight and sometimes I’ll be the one to sleep on the couch, but we’ll work it out. We’re gonna meet people who don’t like our relationship, people who tell us it’s sick and wrong, and we’ll face it together.”

“Together,” Derek repeats. It’s something he’s never had before, a person to stand beside him. He’s always been the one to take care of Scott, to take care of himself, but now he’s got someone who is offering to help him take life head on. A partner.

As he kisses Stiles again, Derek feels something warm settle in his chest. A happiness, a calmness, he’s never felt before.

 

A week later, they try again. They go to a movie theater this time, catching a late showing of a movie that’s been out for a couple weeks. Working the concession is a girl Stiles knew in high school. She doesn’t say anything, but gives the couple an appraising look. Derek spends half of the movie fretting over that look, wondering what it could have meant, before Stiles distracts him with a kiss. They don’t actually finish watching the movie.

 

A couple of weeks after that, they’re walking down grassy path in broad daylight. They’d spent the afternoon hiking in the preserve and were wandering through the park, back to the car, when Derek slips his hand into Stiles’. Stiles stumbles over his words because the gesture, so simple, is also so huge. There’s a family picnicking to their left and a group of teenagers playing with a dog. They’re out in the wide open air, in public, holding hands in a non-platonic way.

Stiles smiles, continues talking, and rubs the pad of his thumb across Derek’s knuckles.

It was going to take some time before Derek got fully comfortable with being seen in a romantic relationship with Stiles, but he was trying. No matter the disgusted looks he got, or the judging stares, Derek was always comforted by that remaining swell of happiness in his gut. That feeling that Stiles would always be there with him, ready to take on whatever came their way.


	6. What The Hell Is This?

**** Kira has been nervous about a lot of things; She was nervous the first time she played cello in front of an audience when she was in middle school. She was nervous about the midterm exams she studied weeks for. Nerves are nothing new to Kira. But she’s not nervous about meeting Scott’s dad for the first time because that implies she could do something to ready herself. Before, with tests and orchestra and even that time when she started competing in sword fighting-- All of those things were something you could prepare for. Meeting your boyfriend’s father was not. There was no practice for that, no trial run or pre-test.

The word nervous didn’t even begin to cover what Kira felt.

When, barely a month after Christmas vacation, Scott told Kira that Mr. Hale wanted to meet her, she panicked. They’d been dating hardly two months. Wasn’t meeting the parents kind of rushed? But it’s not like Kira had a plethora of experience to dredge from. So she agreed.

There were butterflies in her stomach and trembles in her hands. She kept fixing Scott’s bedsheet, making sure the corners were straightened and pillows were fluffed. Then she stood up and shook her head.

“We shouldn’t meet him in here,” Kira stated, gesturing around to Scott’s dorm room. Isaac was at the desk in the corner, hunched over a textbook with earbuds in. Stiles and Scott sat in the middle of the floor playing Uno. “I mean, you sleep in here. Maybe meeting him in your dorm room will give him the wrong idea.”

Scott glanced up at Kira with a soft gaze. “Relax. You could meet him in a dark alley behind a strip club and he would still love you. It’s gonna be fine.”

Kira wasn’t quite so sure.

Stiles chuckled, barely even looking up from the card game. “Scott’s right. Derek isn’t like most dads, okay? You have got nothing to worry about.”

“Then why does he want to meet me?” Kira wondered. She’d been chewing on her lip. It felt raw. She sat down hard on the mattress.

“It’s not like he’s driving up here just to interrogate you for sexing up his only child,” Stiles stated, and okay… That doesn’t really reassure Kira. But then he continued, “He’s coming up to Berkeley anyway to meet with some book publisher in the area. Stopping by to meet you is just a perk.”

“Seriously,” Scott was nodding encouragingly. “It’s not a big deal. He’s just curious to see who I’m dating.”

“What if he hates me?” Kira frowned. That made Scott frown, too, and abandon the card game. He sat on the bed next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

“He’s gonna love you,” Scott promised.

Only a moment later, there was a knock on the door and Stiles jumped to his feet, pulling it open to reveal a man Kira could only describe as terrifying. He had stubble arcing across prominent cheekbones and a pointed nose that matched Scott’s. He looked frightening and intimidating and every amount of devastatingly attractive Erica raved on about, and then he grinned at Stiles and even Kira’s heart jumped a little.

The two at the door greeted each other with a hug and then Derek stepped into the room. Scott got to his feet, pulled his dad in for a welcoming embrace. Kira felt awkward on the bed, so she stood, too. When the Hales parted, Scott gestured grandly to Kira and said, “Dad, this is Kira. Kira, my dad Derek.”

“Mr. Hale,” Kira smiled, angling an open hand between them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

With a questioning glance at the hand, Derek smirked, amused, but shook it anyway and said, “Call me Derek. And it’s great to finally meet you, too.”

“Derek,” Kira corrected herself, but the word felt strange on her tongue. Too casual. She’s dating his son. Shouldn’t he be threatening her or at least be giving her the stink eye? But he just smiled.

“Dude, I got class,” Stiles interrupted the uncomfortable silence and flung an arm around Derek again. “You hanging around campus?”

Derek nodded. “A couple of hours, if you want. My meeting isn’t until this evening.”

Stiles grinned. “Awesome. Then maybe I’ll see you in bit. Later Scotty, Kira.” He gave them one final wave and bolted out the door.

Derek is nice, Kira discovered. He sat back on Scott’s bed and they talked about school and the book he’s publishing and just about anything else. Stiles came back awhile later, dropped his bag on the floor, and scrambled over Derek’s legs to sit next to Scott, inserting himself into the conversation like he belonged there. And Kira realized that Stiles does belong. He’s part of their little family, the way he nudged shoulders with Scott and laughed with Derek. He’s like an honorary Hale. And Kira might have been a little bit jealous, watching the scene with hope that maybe one day she could be this comfortable around them, too.

 

The next time Kira meets Derek is under very different circumstances. It’s Spring Break and Scott invites her (as well as Erica and Isaac) to some beach house that his dad owns. It’s supposedly vacant, but the dirty dishes she finds in the sink suggest otherwise.

And when Kira rushed down the hall after Scott, following the echoes of Erica’s scream, Kira saw a lot of scenarios playing out in her head. Murderers. Squatters. Homeless people. Fugitives. Maybe all of the above, hiding out in the allegedly empty beach house. But when Stiles and Derek appeared in the doorway, Kira realized a few things even without Erica’s blunt retelling of the events she’d walked in on. Stiles’ shirt was inside out and backwards. Derek’s hair was mussed, looking well pulled and tugged on. They both looked sweaty. And the room reeked of sex. And Kira isn’t blind or stupid, but she did not see that one coming.

Finding out that Stiles and Mr. Hale were in a decently long-term relationship was a surprise. Finding out that Scott knew about the relationship was even more surprising. Actually seeing the relationship unfold before her own eyes was something surprise couldn’t even begin to describe.

 

When the first college year ends, Scott and Kira get an apartment together. It’s just a few miles off from Berkeley, far enough out to not be on campus, but close enough to still make the commute every day. And it’s perfect.

It’s almost like playing house when you’re a kid, but the real deal. Kira gets to wake up every morning staring at the beautiful face of the man she’s pretty sure she’s in love with. She gets to make dinners for the two of them that sometimes burn, but that’s okay because they’re still learning and they’re in this together. She gets to sing as loud as she wants in the shower and she’s allowed to kiss Scott whenever she wants and it’s just… perfect.

It’s weird because Kira doesn’t see her friends everyday and she gets a Summer job at a coffee shop a few blocks away, but it’s fun. It’s exciting.

When college starts up again in the fall, Kira welcomes the return with open arms (and maybe squeezes Stiles a little too hard, but she hasn’t seen him in three months, okay?) Stiles is staying on campus again this year, but he hangs out at Kira and Scott’s apartment most nights and usually crashes on their couch every weekend. It feels strangely grown-up to Kira, having her own place, and she once asks Stiles why he doesn’t get an apartment, too.

Stiles replied with a shrug. “I live with Derek,” He says, and the words leave his mouth so easily that it kind of shocks Kira. And then she remembers, yes, Stiles and Mr. Hale are in a relationship. Much like her and Scott. “And I’m saving my money for trips back home for Thanksgiving and Christmas and stuff. Living on campus is just easier, I guess.”

 

When Thanksgiving rolls around, Kira takes Scott home to meet her parents for the first time. The dinner is awkward and sometimes silent, especially after her mother asks what Scott’s parents are doing for Thanksgiving. Scott smiles politely. “It’s just me and my dad actually. I think he’s spending Thanksgiving with his boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Kira’s mother repeated, but there wasn’t judgement in her tone. Just curiosity. “Is that your step-father then?”

Scott started choking on his mashed potatoes and never got around to answering.

 

For Christmas, Scott invites her to Beacon Hills. They’ve been dating for about a year at that point, so it felt nice to be welcome in Scott’s childhood home for such an important holiday.

Scott had briefly explained the Stilinski-Hale tradition. Christmas morning, every year since they were kids, Stiles and the Sheriff would come over to the Hale house with presents in tow. Since both families only consisted of a father and son each, it felt nice to be able to share the holidays together. 

This year, though, would be the first Christmas with Stiles and Derek being an open couple since apparently the Sheriff hadn’t been aware of his son's relationship last year. And it was the first year Scott brought Kira home.

The first thing Kira notices when Scott’s car pulls to a stop outside is how simple it is. There are a few lights hanging over the porch, but nothing else seemed particularly seasonal. A couple wild flowers grew in clusters along the path leading to the front door and the lawn was well kempt, but it didn’t seem to Kira that someone spent a lot of time caring for it. It felt natural, in a way. Inviting. Warm and welcome.

It’s two days before Christmas and Derek insisted that they stay at the house at least until Christmas was over. They’d be staying in Scott’s old room.

The house seems strangely empty when Kira and Scott drag their luggage up the flight of stairs and settle in for their short stay. “Stiles told me they were finishing up some shopping for dinner,” Scott explains, falling back onto the bed. “They won’t be home for another few hours. We could unpack. Or--” He pushes himself up onto his elbows and watches Kira with a playful smirk. “We could find another way to pass the time.”

And of course, Kira is no blushing maiden, but it feels strange to do more than press a chaste kiss on Scott’s pouting lips. She flat-out refuses to go full-frontal in the house, the exact room, where Scott grew up.

So Kira turns her attention to unpacking. They didn’t bring much but their combined possessions mostly filled the old dresser still set up along the far wall. It didn’t take long, though the short drive had apparently exhausted Scott because he’s snoring and possibly drooling on the pillow by the time she finishes. Kira wants to lie down and rest, too, but her body absolutely refuses. She blames it on the nerves of encountering Mr. Hale again, especially since this is the first time since Spring Break and the beach house incident. She shudders just thinking about it.

She sorts through the clothing again, arranging and rearranging the various apparel that belonged to her and Scott. Then she picks up what little the old room still held. A couple of little league trophies (mostly participation), a framed picture of Scott and Stiles when they were kids, and some DVDs that he’d left behind. But eventually Kira gets restless. She abandons the room and her sleeping boyfriend in favor of exploring the rest of the house. Down the short hallway, she finds the bathroom and a linen closet, and then farther down a ways, an open door. She peeks around the corner to find another bedroom. The comforter is thrown messily over the mattress-- not neat, but it looks like someone made a half-assed effort to make the bed. There’s a flannel shirt rumpled on the floor she recognizes Stiles having worn before and she can barely make out the photos setting on the night stand. One is from Scott’s high school graduation, just Derek and his son both grinning proudly. Propped up next to that is another, this one of Stiles and Derek wearing matching smiles.

Downstairs, Kira meanders around the living room. A tree is decorated in the corner, a small collection of gifts gathered beneath. There are a couple more framed photos of Scott through the years, some with Stiles or Derek, some with all three. Kira turns the corner into the kitchen, the sight before her making her freeze in her tracks.

Derek is leaning against the far counter with Stiles pressed up against his chest. Their heads are bent together, sharing a stolen kiss that Kira feels guilty for seeing. There’s nothing terribly obscene about the image, but it feels private. Like she’s intruding, just by witnessing it. Noses bumping softly together, lips barely touching but moving in a slow, rhythmic dance they’ve both mastered. Like they’ve kissed a million times before. And she realizes that’s because they have. Derek’s hand is splayed across Stiles’ neck, curving up so his fingers trace along the younger man’s jaw.

When the kiss ends, the pair part, but Stiles doesn’t move back. He rests his chest against Derek’s. “Are you sure we should exchange gifts early?” He asks. 

“It was your idea,” Derek smiles.

Stiles shifts nervously, bouncing from one foot to the other. “Well, yeah,” He shrugs. “With my dad and Scott being here for Christmas... “ He sighs. “I just don’t want to make them feel super uncomfortable, you know? But do you want to exchange presents now?”

“I’m ready if you are,” Derek says.

Stiles bounces again, this time more excitedly. “Okay.” He goes across the room to retrieve a crudely wrapped box, a messy bow on the top, holding it out to Derek. “You go first.”

Derek peels back the wrapping paper to reveal a plain brown box. Inside, there’s a load of crumpled tissue paper and an envelope. Kira can’t tell from her spying position around the corner what the envelope is, but she sees Derek’s brow creased in concentration as he pulls it open.

“A brochure,” Derek says, flipping through the folded paper inside. “For a place called Muddy Oaks. A nature preserve?”

Stiles grins, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes. There’s a cabin right in the middle of the preserve. I know you like to be all secluded when you write, and you love the woods. I reserved the cabin for an entire week, at the end of May. If you don’t like the dates, I can call back and change them. But I’ll be busy with finals at that time, so you can pass the time writing romance novels in the woods.” He leans forward to capture Derek’s lips in a slow kiss. “And then, when I get back from college, you can tell me all about your secluded week and how you were so lonely you jerked off thinking about me at least once a day.”

Derek snorts and nods. “At least,” He emphasizes, but the kiss breaks when he can’t stop grinning. “I love this. Thank you.”

Stiles grabs onto the sides of Derek’s shirt, peeking behind him to the counter. “My turn,” He commands. “Where’s mine?”

Rolling his eyes, Derek pulls a small box out of his pocket. He holds it forward, but Kira can’t see what it’s in it. All she sees is the way Stiles’ back tenses, the sudden intake of breath.

Derek flails for a second, reminding Kira of Stiles, and blurts out, “I’m not proposing!”

Stiles seems to relax a little, shifting so Kira can clearly see the silver ring inside the box. Stiles nods slowly. “Okay,” He says. “Then… Umm… What the hell is this?”

Derek takes the ring between two fingers, holding it up. “It was my dad’s,” Derek admits. He looks nervous. “Did I ever tell you that my parents weren’t married? My mom changed her last name, gave me and Laura the name Hale, but they never signed the legal documents. They didn’t want to. They called each other life partners, but they were never technically husband and wife.”

Stiles looks merely curious as he touches the silver band. He turns it over in his hands while Derek looks down and says, “I love you. I want to be with you for a long time, maybe forever. A life partner. That’s why I want you to have this.”

Stiles is silent for a long time, just watching the ring, feeling the weight of it. Then he looks up at Derek and frowns. “I’ll never marry you. You know that, right? I can’t.” He chuckles softly. “You’re the one, Derek. But… with the circumstances, marriage isn’t really a realistic option.” Then he snorts. “God, could you imagine that? I’d be Scott’s legal step-father. How fucking crazy is that?”

Derek smiles, too. He brushes his fingers across Stiles’ jaw. “I know that. I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m not asking anything. I just want you to have the ring. You don’t even have to wear it. Just keep it, and as long as you have it, you’ll know that I love you. Forever.”

Stiles slips the ring onto his right ring finger, then moves it to his middle when it’s too loose. “I already know that,” He replies. But he presses his lips to Derek’s one more time.

Kira, having eavesdropped enough, decides to give them some privacy. Still, she can’t help but smile all the way back to Scott’s bedroom. She curls up with her boyfriend and watches Scott sleep. She softly kisses his nose, and Scott snorts. “I love you,” Kira whispers. And even though Scott can’t hear her, she closes her eyes and falls into a content sleep next to him.


End file.
